


The bloody fight in the alley

by Johnlocked_writer (Carokation)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, BAMF John Watson, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Crime Fighting, Danger, Evil, Help, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, John is a Mess, M/M, POV John Watson, Peril, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is a Bit Not Good, Sherlock is a Mess, Suspense, alley, chase - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 21:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20607335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carokation/pseuds/Johnlocked_writer





	The bloody fight in the alley

The chase into the alley

Vandor vanished into an alleyway. John cursed under his breath. With no other choice, since he didn´t wanted to lose him, he silently entered the small alley while the big, muscular blonde was still in sight, hoping that he wouldn´t look behind him and notice that he was being followed. The alley was partly littered with garbage, but otherwise empty, with towering old buildings on each side. John would have to be damn silent from now on. Halfway down the long alleyway, he overlooked a soda can, though. The bloody thing rolled away making extra loud clattering noises all along the way. Of course, this leaded the criminal to turn around and notice him. 

Unfortunately for John, Vandor instantly recognized him as Sherlock’s partner and smiled maliciously onto the smaller sandy blonde doctor. John quickly took out his gun, as a sign for the brute to not do anything stupid. But the smile of the big guy only deepened. John thought that was because Vandor had no idea how willing John was to shoot his gun, if necessary. But regardless of John being armed, the big, brutish looking man started walking towards John, eying him like a predator would eye his prey. John hesitated, shooting someone, however bad the guy was, was a serious business. He slowly started walking backwards, still thinking about which strategy to follow, when Vandor pulled out a small but sharp looking knife from somewhere out of his clothes and started running towards John. 

John, throwing all plans over board, shot him straight in his muscular chest, once, twice, before the ammunition was used up and the gun only made empty clicking sounds. Damn it, Sherlock must´ve used most of the ammo for shooting the wall again and John didn´t had the time to check and refill it earlier, but two shots aimed straight for the heart should be enough for bringing a man down, bulky as he was.  
Unfortunately, that wasn´t the case with Vandor. The bullets hardly seemed to slow down the well-built criminal, indicating that he was wearing something like a Kevlar vest under his clothes. 

Cursing, John put away his now useless gun, deciding to flee before he would be stabbed to death. He turned around and headed for the end of the alley, back to where he came from, breaking into a run. Way to soon though, he heard heavy footsteps closing in on him. Despite of his bulky form, that guy seemed to be a born runner. John tried to run faster, but his sleep deprivation wasn´t helping. Two steps later, he was thrown to the ground, buried under Vandor and felt him breathing down his neck, which really wasn´t the nicest feeling, not to speak of the pain of being half crushed to dead with his body pressed against the hart ground, trapped efficiently from the superior weight of his opponent. 

“In future you and that bloody Sherlock Holmes will not follow me again! Tell him that and also tell him, I won´t let you get away so easy next time I catch you!” Vandor´s growling voice sounded in John´s ear, while the doctor tried to wiggle out from under him, but it was in vain since the criminal´s grip on him was strong and his weight pressed him down effectively. John saw a shimmer of silver in the edges of his vision and then felt a sharp pain, as Vandor sliced the knife down his back, leaving a long and deep cut, which would definitely leave an ugly scar behind. Gasping, he gave a half stifled and agonized cry. 

John thought Vandor would be done with tormenting him after that, but he seemed to have found joy in slicing him. The second painful cut was placed over his right lower leg, not as long as the first, but slicing into the muscles of his calf so deep that it would be slowing his walk greatly. Which might as well be the reason for it, John thought grimly. Maybe the criminal wasn´t so dumb as he looked after all. 

Then the weight was leaving him as Vandor struggled up from the ground, kicking John in the side for good measure before he walked away laughing.

The bloody way out

John moaned, slowly getting his shit together again and standing up carefully, not without swaying, though. Blood was slowly but surely running down his back and calf. As a doctor, John knew that his wounds would need stitches and better sooner than later, given by how bad they were bleeding. And going by how bad they started burning as he made the first step. His leg was trembling and nearly giving out under him, not being able to hold his weight. He just about stopped himself from toppling over by catching himself on the wall besides him.

Cursing and pressing his jaw together, he tried jumping on his left leg, but that made the pain in his back extremely worse so he had to lean sideways against the wall for support, breathing heavily. Only then he had the splendid idea to call for help just where he was instead of struggling his way out of the alley first, as he had planned.  
Turning out his phone with new hope, he cursed again as he saw the huge crack. It must have been damaged during his fall earlier. He tried turning it on, but to no avail. So back to plan A again… 

The pain in his back from the long gash was nearly killing him by now (apart from soaking his poor jumper in scarlet red) and walking was extremely difficult, so he decided to suck up his pride and just crawl to the nearest street instead. He felt like it took half an hour until he reached the end where the alley ended into a smallish street (at least for London standards) with moderate traffic and no people in the immediate vicinity. He crawled a little further out of the alleyway and then just laid there on the pedestrian walk, literally bloody and totally exhausted from the way there. His vision was slightly swaying now, which wasn´t a good sign, he was losing too much blood. John closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing in and out and trying to get some of his strength back. As he was struggling to open them again, he heard the sound of a car screeching to a sudden stop.

“John!” he then heard a well-familiar voice shouting, with barely contained fear. He only managed a half-smiley as he more felt than saw Sherlock kneeling down beside him. A sudden gentle but inevitably painful pressure made him gasp for air, shuddering. “Shsh, shsh, shsh, it´s all good now. Help is coming. Stay with me!” the voice of his very best friend was calming him down. 

But he was tired, so tired... John could hardly keep his eyes open now. Sherlock carefully cupped his head with his long and smooth hands, turning it gently, making John face him. The sandy blonde noticed how deeply loving the fascinatingly greenish blue eyes of his companion looked onto him and would have blushed, if the blood rushing through his veins wasn´t heading somewhere else already and that was out of his body. 

Not much later, John´s eyes began to close themselves of their own accounts, he just couldn´t fight it anymore. The next thing Sherlock said, though, was effectively waking him up again: 

“Keep your eyes fixed on me!”

It sounded exactly like fife years ago, on that dreaded day when he thought Sherlock was dying for good. 

John´s eyes snatched open, his body trembling not only from the aftershock of his injuries, but also from the reopening of an old wound. By the way Sherlock´s voice broke on the end of the sentence, it seemed like it was just the same for him, though. John´s heart felt like it clenched together painfully, but his eyes were wide open, staring at Sherlock again and not letting go. They remained like this when finally the ambulance was arriving, paramedics rushing out and approaching them.

Even when they laid him onto a stretcher, preparing him for transport, his eyes wouldn´t leave the great detective´s ones. 

He would never ever let him go again.


End file.
